


Kitsune

by CallYouByYourName



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Fox Spirit, Kitsune, M/M, Other, Smut, trickery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 07:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18027821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallYouByYourName/pseuds/CallYouByYourName
Summary: From coyotetracks.org:"We see the two separate threads of good and evil: fox as benefactor and guardian, and fox as beguiler and trickster.""Stories rarely explain why kitsune wish to charm humans and entrap them in illusions—according to the fox-marriage legend, “the fox in the guise of a pretty woman will lead men into temptation to satisfy its desire,” but there is no explanation as to why a fox would desire men. Perhaps the Zen answer is the best answer: they just do."





	Kitsune

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of an idea-bug that I had to follow through. Don't worry, there's smut to follow - I know what the fandom likes. >:)

“Are you lost? You look lost.” 

Julian steadies himself against the wall of an unfamiliar shopfront, swaying only a little. “What - hic! - whatever gave you that idea, friend?” he looks toward the source of the question, trying to identify the blurry stranger standing in the street. He focuses on wet cobblestones - strappy sandals - brown trousers with black edges and gold buttons - a riot of colorful scarves and sashes, pinks and purples and gold and fringe over a white linen shirt - and familiar lavender eyes. Not such a stranger after all, then!

“Asra, you sly old fox!” Julian laughs, pushing off from the wall in his general direction. “You’re the last person I expected to see here!” He reaches out to slap him on the back in the name of camaraderie, but there’s no one there. His hand sails through space, encountering nothing. Julian stumbles, doesn’t quite fall. 

“Asra?” 

“Over here.” 

Now the magician is leaning in the doorway of the shop, arms folded across his chest, watching the doctor with a look of studied amusement. Julian swipes at his unreliable eyes. 

“How did you…? How did you do that?”

“Do what?” 

Asra’s warm liquid voice, a hot-tea-with-honey voice if Julian’s ever heard one, is so close he’d swear he’s standing right next to him. Probably because he is, in fact, standing next to him, close enough to touch, and the doorway that he’s blinking at is empty.

“Asra, you’ve got to stop that, really. I’m much too drunk for magic tricks.” He covers his eyes with one hand, wearily, certain that when he looks again the magician will be someplace new. Or maybe he was never there at all. A soft breath of laughter, directly in front of him, is so close he can feel it on his skin. Warm hands pull his fingers away from his face.. He’s looking into those soft purple eyes that he knows all too well, and Asra’s laughing at him.

“Come on, Julian, I don’t think you should be out here by yourself in your condition. Let’s get you home.” He dances back into the street, pulling Julian by the hand he’s still holding. Julian follows him, somewhat bewildered by his sudden turn of luck as Asra threads their fingers together (!) and leads him away.

“How, erm, how did you happen to be out here at this time of night, anyway?” Julian asks, as they're walking. Asra gives him a sidelong glance he isn’t sure he likes, his grin slightly wicked.

“I was looking for you.”

Julian stops in his tracks, pulling Asra up short. “Wait-- You were looking? For -me-?” 

“Mmmhm.” 

“What, really? -Why- ?”

The light from the guttering street-lamps is poor, but he’s almost certain the magician is blushing. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light? Asra steps closer, brings his free hand up to touch Julian’s cheek delicately, looking deeply into his eyes in a strange, searching way. 

“I was worried about you, Julian. It’s because… I know what tonight is.” 

“Ah, so you remembered that. Pity. I thought I was the only one who was burdened by the memory.” 

All this touching is making Julian uncomfortable… but not uncomfortable in the way that would make him tell Asra to stop - it’s the other kind, and far more dangerous to his continued wellbeing. He endeavors to look anywhere but into Asra’s kind face.

Asra says, “How could I forget? It’s the anniversary.” 

Julian scoffs. “Anniversaries are happy occasions. You know, parties. Alcohol? Cake and dancing? This is definitely not a cake sort of night.”

“Not a cake night,” the magician agrees. “In fact, it seems like it was more of a Salty Bitters night, at least for some of us. How many have you had?” 

“Uh, I’ve had… what’s seven Bitters minus… fourteen coins, plus two bottles of grey goose?”

Asra grimaces. “A hangover, I’d say.” 

“Right. That’s what I had then. A pre-hangover.” His joke falls flat. He puts his hand up to remove Asra’s distracting touch, but instead finds himself clinging to his hand, unable to deny himself the comfort of it. This is bad, this is very very bad. He looks into Asra’s face, guiltily, and Asra narrows his eyes. He leans in… and puts his lips to Julian’s ear.

Asra whispers, “Nothing you can hurt yourself with will bring her back.” 

Julian feels regret swell in his throat, then sting behind his eyes and nose, and then the hot tears are rolling down his cheeks: right here, right out in public. And worse: In front of Asra. And -god- he wishes he were still in the Rowdy Raven, he wishes he were anywhere but here, he wishes he were -dead-. 

Asra’s fingers ghost over his cheek and pull away, unmindful of the tears running freely down his face, and now he’s leading again, drawing Julian through the dark streets without another word having been spoken between them. Julian’s vision blurs, but he stumbles behind the magician like a child or like a dog on a leash, wiping ineffectively at his eyes and nose.

He loses track of where they are.

When he looks around again, they’re in a part of the city he’s never visited, although he knows Vesuvia like the back of his hand. The shops and houses have given way to low, rough-looking huts that seem to be built into the ground, in fact some of the windows peer out of hillsides like watchful eyes. A few have smoking chimneys and dim yellow lights glowing from inside, but most are dark. There’s a smell of damp in the air, and something else: rank and animal. The paving and cobblestones have gone, they walk a well-trodden dirt path. And why are they walking it so quickly? Even Julian’s long legs struggle to keep up with Asra’s energetic pace. 

“Asra.” 

Asra halts, turning around. Julians sees, or imagines, a spark of impatience in his eyes. “What is it?”

“This isn’t where I live?” 

Confusion crosses the magician’s face… then his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Oh! Did I mislead you? I didn’t say I was taking you to your house, Julian. I said I was taking you -home-.” 

Ohh! It’s Julian’s turn to blush. “Y-you’re taking me…?” he stutters, unable to understand.

Asra nods, pleased with himself. “Exactly. Or maybe, anyway. But first, I’ve got to get you home.” He turns his back on the spluttering doctor, pulling him along in his wake.


End file.
